


Purgatory

by SweetSerenity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Office, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-09-19 18:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSerenity/pseuds/SweetSerenity
Summary: When Hermione is assigned to the Department of Extraneous Papers as a punishment, she discovers her new colleague is Draco Malfoy. The two of them hatch a scheme that sends the Ministry into chaos over Christmas. Luckily, their office is a magic-free bunker in the basements of the Ministry, where they can hide from the outside world.





	1. Welcome to Purgatory

The office was off-the-grid. There had been years when it could have been considered off-the-reality even. A magical dead-zone, there were permanent spells five hundred metres away in all directions, surrounding the room like an invisible shield that sucked away all the magic. It wasn’t connected to any Muggle utilities. Any technology had to be battery-operated and the ‘bathroom’ was shockingly medieval. It was a secret bunker in the basements of the illustrious Ministry of Magic. And of course, the Ministry being the Ministry, they had designated it Office 623 and assigned it to the Department of Extraneous Papers.

When she got her marching orders, Hermione being Hermione, she had tried to soothe her anger by researching the hell out of her crazy new office. A week and dozens of books later, her fury was still scorching hot, but now she knew all there was to know about Office 623. Its origins were unknown, but the Ministry’s best guess was that it was a side project by a paranoid ministry worker from the 1800s. Over the years it had been used as a broom closet, a storage space for dark objects and an enhanced interrogation room. In the 1950s it was opened as a day care. The records had been sealed, so the poor parents had been oblivious to the fact that their darling children were playing in a room with hidden bloodstains and lingering hexes. When the truth came out with a bang, the place was sanitized from top to bottom, memories were erased, files were destroyed and the room was shut down for decades.

Two months after the war, a surprised Percy Weasley had been doing a routine audit of the building when he had discovered a man hiding out in the room. The man was a half-blood, and the room had been littered with opened cans of mushroom soup and baked beans hoarded from the Muggle world. The diet, the isolation and the constant fear of discovery had sent him half out of his mind. Percy had some interesting bite marks on his neck to prove it. The poor man had been sent off to counselling, but Percy, ever looking for efficiency and productivity savings, had seen a simple way to free up some office space in more desirable locations. The Department of Extraneous Papers became the proud owner of a unique and historical office.

Hermione might be on her way to purgatory, but at least she was well-prepared for the horrors that awaited. She would fill out pointless forms and file away meaningless documents that nobody wanted until either she went mad or Percy did. She wasn’t going to use her war hero celebrity connections to go over his head. That would make her look weak. She was going to call his bluff. The Department of Magical Creatures would fall apart without her, and then he would be forced to come begging for her help.

But in the meantime, she had a job to do. As she put her hand on the doorknob, she imagined the most barren and lifeless hole in the ground that she could, so that her reaction to the real thing could only go up. It was a lesson she had learnt from the endless mushroom dinners she had endured while camping. She wondered if the little mind trick had worked for the office’s previous occupant. His complete and total mental breakdown would suggest otherwise.

When she opened the door, she found only black and more black. Right, no windows. She was proud of her brain, but every now and again there was a blip in the system. The simple logic of light and shadow had not even occurred to her. Her hand twitched for her wand and then towards the wall for a light switch. Both completely useless gestures under the circumstances. Then her brain switched back on, and she reasoned that there must be a light source near the door somewhere. Human laziness and fear of tripping over things in the dark almost guaranteed it. She fumbled her way around in the dark until she ran into a table, and then managed to find an object with a switch on it. She pressed the switch, hoping she wasn’t triggering some kind of explosive device. It turned out to be a very strong lamp, and it flooded the room with light.

Light that revealed a human form, stretched across a ratty plaid couch. A blonde, pointy-nosed human form that was unfortunately very familiar to her. Percival Ignatius Weasley was going down. He had only mentioned her office-mate in vague and generic terms. His tone had been bland while he had droned on and on about her colleague, saying meaningless nonsense but providing no information of substance. She hadn’t suspected a thing. Who knew Percy Weasley had such impressive acting skills?

 After holding back a shriek of surprise, she considered her options carefully. She could leave. She could kick him until he woke up. Or she could take this as a golden opportunity for sleuthing. She tiptoed around the sleeping form, quite literally, as she couldn’t perform any silencing spells and her new shoes were squeaky. She started shuffling through the papers on the thin and unstable pine desk. She left no stone unturned even in the face of splinters. Whenever her conscience piped up, she would just think ‘Buckbeak’ or ‘teeth’ and it would shut up. Childhood grudges could be useful sometimes, whatever Harry might try to preach about forgiveness. The adult and almost-adult stuff was too messy and grey, but she felt perfectly free to stay mad at Draco Malfoy for hexing her teeth when he was fourteen. On the surface, her findings were rather boring. No secret diaries or love poems, just beaurecratic forms and memos. But the almost calligraphic handwriting, combined with the napping, told her that Malfoy had way too much time on his hands. And the painstakingly polite note to Percy in a cheerful purple ink was belied by the matching quill lying next to it, violently snapped in half. It seemed she and Malfoy had a common enemy.

Malfoy’s snoozing gave her ample time to absorb the full horror of Office 623. The single lamp was the only source of light in the room, so if the battery died they would be in total darkness. Which was unfortunate, because the overwhelmingly orange glare it projected made her want to throw it at the wall and watch it smash into tiny pieces. The wall was solid concrete, giving the room its bunker vibe. One tiny patch of wall had a Slytherin green scrap of fabric attached to it with sticky-tape, but the flag or artwork or whatever it was had half fallen down and curled up at the edges. The floor had been carpeted at least, but it was a repulsive brown colour that seemed to be designed to hide the fact that it had never met a vacuum. The twin pine desks with standard rolling office chairs and the plaid couch were the only real furniture in the room. There were also crates of soup and bottled water stacked up in the corner. It was all mildly depressing. It made her wonder how sane Malfoy would be when he woke up.

She hadn’t seen him up close for about a year. They had been sitting for their N.E.W.T exams at the Ministry, six months after the war. Kingsley and Professor McGonagall had asked very politely if she would mind if Draco Malfoy was put in her exam session, and expressed their confidence that she would set a good example for the other students in keeping the peace. She had never felt so emotionally blackmailed in her life. Harry had taken what she thought of as an overly sentimental view of Malfoy, comparing him to Severus Snape and Regulus Black, a redeemed man that had overcome a dark destiny. She was more sceptical. Sure, he wasn’t evil, but he hadn’t performed any shining good deeds either. His stammered confusion over Harry’s identity at Malfoy Manor didn’t exactly resonate with her, considering he had stood right by while she was being tortured on the drawing room floor. He wasn’t brave or heroic. She wasn’t even sure if he was sorry for any of it. In his six months of imprisonment, had it kept him up at night? From what she had heard, the place was more like a small cottage than a jail cell, and there had been no dementors to weary his soul. But there must have been some regret, some tiny shred of remorse. She did admit _some_ similarities to the previous generation. There was a cycle here, one that needed to be broken. So she had plastered on a fake smile and approached Malfoy’s desk after the exam, ready to offer amends or forgiveness. And if it was only fake amends and fake forgiveness, at least it would be a start. A gesture. But when she had spoken some inane rehearsed greeting, he had just lifted his head slowly, and given her such a blank look that she had backed away without saying another word. In the days after the incident, she had worked herself up to resentment that he had dared to ignore her gesture of goodwill. She had projected all kinds of negative emotions on him, from condescension to disgust. But in the moment she had only been afraid, afraid at the emptiness in his eyes. Really, there had been nothing there at all.

Now she looked for any hint of madness in his sleeping form. She had never seen him sleeping, all vulnerable and unguarded. Mostly he just looked like himself, the way she remembered him. He was perhaps a shade paler, from lack of sunlight. His hair was longer and a little scruffy, like he hadn’t had a haircut in a while. He looked boyish in a way that reminded her of her boys. She had seen Harry and Ron sleep often, while she sat up researching in the library or the common room or a tent in the middle of nowhere. Malfoy slept in the same way that they did, like gravity was working double time and pulling his limbs in ten different directions. She couldn’t say why, exactly, but she thought he was having a pleasant dream. She knew enough of nightmares to rule them out, and his features were more relaxed than she had ever seen them awake. She caught herself reaching to adjust his blanket and pinched her arm to snap herself out of it. He wasn’t a lost little lamb. He was Draco Malfoy. One of the first things her father had taught her when he took her camping was to let sleeping snakes lie. He might look innocent now, but this one had sharp fangs, and he was quick to strike. It was with that thought in mind that she retreated to her own flimsy desk and waited for him to wake up.

About three hours after her arrival, there was movement from the other side of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy tumble off the couch and land in an undignified heap, his blanket over his head like a child’s ghost costume. When his head emerged to stare at her, she looked up briefly from her pen and paper to give him a wry smile. ‘Good afternoon Malfoy. Looks like we’ll be working together.’

Then she went back to her doodle of a ferret falling from a broomstick. Her investigation hadn’t uncovered any actual work to do, so she had decided to nurture her creativity. Her drawings were at kindergarten level, so there was a lot of room to grow. Her plan was to be wide-eyed and innocent when Malfoy murdered Percy in a fit of rage. She was already planning her alibi. An impromptu visit to Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, in front of witnesses. She almost felt like cackling to herself.

‘Great,’ Malfoy said through a yawn. ‘I could use the company.’

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to find the elusive sarcasm. But he was just picking himself up off the floor, smiling like a ray of sunshine, and even humming a little tune as he walked over to his desk. He spun around in his chair a few times, before picking up a quill and scribbling away on what she knew to be a receipt for flowers. The two desks were facing each other, but even if they weren’t she wouldn’t have been able to tear her eyes away. Malfoy had clearly descended into complete and utter insanity. How long would it take before she joined him?

 


	2. Oversharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tries to interrogate Malfoy but finds the tables turned on herself.

When Draco walked into the office on Thursday, he made a beeline for his desk, then backtracked a few steps, looking around the room in confusion. ‘Where is my soup?’

‘Gone.’

He gave her an accusing look. ‘Gone where? I paid good money for that soup.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I thought it was left over from Mr. Jones, the bunker guy.’

 ‘No, that stuff expired a few months ago. The soup was mine and I want it back. Now.’

Hermione fought the urge to groan. Malfoy was clearly in even more trouble than she had guessed. Why had she decided to meddle? ‘So you went out and bought crates and crates of soup? Why?’

‘It was a good deal and I like soup.’

‘You can’t live on that stuff. You’ll waste away. There isn’t even a microwave in here. Did you build a fire?’

‘It said heating optional.’ He said it with a straight face, as though it were perfectly ordinary to like room temperature canned soup.

‘God. That is just about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’ She put a container on his desk. ’Here. I bought you some real food. Roast chicken and vegetables.’ Courtesy of Molly Weasley, who kept pushing food on her every time they met.

Draco gave her a withering glare. ‘I don’t need mothering Granger. I can feed myself. Save it for Pothead and Weasel.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘This is more for my benefit than yours. The sight of all those cans was depressing. I’m banning soup from the office for a month.’

‘Interfering swot. You can’t just-‘

‘And if you waste away to nothing, how will I dispose of the corpse? I can’t cast any spells in here, and I’m certainly not dragging you up the stairs.’

 He stomped over to his desk and proceeded to ignore her for the rest of the morning. Hermione silently celebrated her victory. Finally, a normal reaction. They had been working together for three days, and Malfoy had kept up the Mr. Cheerful act the whole time. He hadn’t insulted her once. He was annoyingly polite and happy. He had actually tried to push her chair in for her this morning. She had been so bamboozled she had almost fallen right off it. That was when she suspected the soup of poisoning his mind. She hadn’t seen him eat any, because she always had her lunch outside in the real world where she could breathe fresh air, but the cans were slowly disappearing. She had smuggled a few cans out of the anti-magic zone to test them for enchantments, but they had come back clean. She had felt silly for being so paranoid, which may have fuelled her rash decision to throw away all of the soup. Even if she wrong about the poison, they certainly weren’t doing Malfoy any good. And the sight of them was slowly poisoning her own mind. She felt a little guilty about his extreme reaction, but he did eat the roast after all.

As always, she was out of even the most futile busy work by the afternoon. She peeked over at Malfoy and saw that he was just sitting there, tearing a note to shreds. Now that he had showed some humanity, she thought it was worth trying a little light interrogation. ‘So, how did you land this job? Did you wander over to HR and say you were super keen to be a paper-pusher?’

He was silent for so long she thought he was ignoring her. She was halfway through her latest doodle when he finally spoke up. ‘The Ministry made it a condition of my probation. They couldn’t have the young Malfoy villain lying around in his mansion all day eating caviar and laughing at the peasants. Not a good look.’

‘Hmm.’ If he was so unhappy, why had he pretended so fiercely that he wasn’t? To avoid showing weakness? To throw her off-balance?

Malfoy flicked the shreds of paper off his desk where they joined the growing paper mountain on the floor. ‘And you? How did Little Miss Perfect get such a lovely promotion?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

Malfoy stood up and stalked towards her desk, kicking the paper across the floor as he did so. He towered over her. She resisted the urge to stand up so they were on equal footing.  Up close, she could see that there was still a crazy glint in his eye. Possibly from soup withdrawal. ‘You have to tell me now. It’s only fair.’

It was only fair. If she didn’t reciprocate, he would just clam up and then she would have to put up with that awful silence again. But this time she would be stuck with a broody Draco instead of a fake-happy Draco.  ‘I was working in the Department of Magical Creatures. I got promoted to Assistant Manager after a few months. There were huge gaps in the office after the war, so we got to set things up in our own way, start from scratch. We made the office more creature-friendly, and we were doing good work. Important work. Then Percy Weasley stuck his nose in.’

‘He does have an awfully big nose.’

‘He wanted to overhaul the department. We had a few disagreements and I said some unprofessional things. There was this hex I learnt from Ginny… Apparently it’s very wrong to assault a Senior Official of the Minister. A Grade 1 offence. Tatamount to attacking the Ministry itself. Unruly and disrespectful.’ Percy had written all of that down in an official letter, so it had been easy for her to memorise. She had pinned it to her fridge.

Malfoy nodded along to the story. ‘Sounds like him.’

Hermione grew suspicious. Since when was Malfoy the listening type? Was he gathering blackmail material? Against her or Percy? She would need to watch her words. It was just that she hadn’t really had the chance to unburden herself about everything. She had been avoiding her friends like the plague, which was pretty easy from way down here. It would break Molly’s heart if she started up a row between Percy and his siblings, after everything that had happened during the war. ‘I refused to apologise to his satisfaction, so he shipped me down here. So here I am, until I muster up the right words to soothe his ego. I’ve known Percy for a long time. We’ll sort things out eventually, once we’ve both cooled off. He is practically family after all.’ She smiled to soften the edges of the story. Just a silly fight between friends.

Malfoy just stared at her, as though waiting for her to finish the story. She tried to resist, she really did, but the words kept pouring out. ‘What’s a little career destruction between friends? He only crushed my dreams to dust in the name of productivity and public relations. And he appointed Luna Lovegood in my place. Luna! She embodies the spirit of everything I wanted the department to stand for. She’s so good-natured that I can’t even resent her for it. It’s the perfect job for her, and she deserves it more than I do.’

Malfoy inspected his fingernails. ‘That’s some pedestal you’ve put Loony on there.’

She supposed it was. But she owed Luna so much. Luna had helped nurse her through the after effects of Bellatrix’s torture even though she herself was half-starved and hadn’t seen daylight in weeks. She had checked on her every hour, distracting her from the pain by regaling her with tales of exotic creatures. Hermione liked to think that she was a good friend, but she had her faults. She could be too demanding sometimes and too slow to forgive. She loved Harry and Ron, but they were a bit careless with their friendship in the small everyday ways. It made their friendship easier, because there was less pressure to be the perfect friend in return. Their friendship was flawed, but it was real and solid as rock. Luna had always been ten times the friend she was, even when Hermione was being a bit of a jerk in return. Hermione had been awed by the full force of that friendship. She had vowed to be a better friend to Luna after the war, but now there was this mess between them. Luna may have taken the job, but Hermione couldn’t doubt for a second that she had done it with pure intentions, even though they hadn’t talked about it. ‘Luna’s a good person.’

‘Hermione Granger’s a good person. How many people are there who would disagree with that statement?’

His tone had been sarcastic, but she answered seriously. ‘More than you would think. I’m not an angel.’

‘Neither is Luna Lovegood. She’s unfocused, detached from the real world. Her mind is wide open, but she isn’t book smart. She isn’t the desk job type. I’d be willing to bet she doesn’t last a month in that job. Hopefully she’ll drive Weasley bonkers in the meantime.’

There was some truth in what he said. Maybe Luna didn’t really want the job. Maybe she would be happier elsewhere. Hermione wanted to repay Luna any way she could. But not this way. It would be so much easier if Luna simply gave up the job. Because Hermione didn’t know if she could fight her for it. Didn’t know if she could _not_ fight her for it. For now she would pass time in limbo, until her mind finished warring with itself. It wasn’t so bad down here. It was like a vacation. A very boring one, with no views or fresh air.

She heard the ringing bells that indicated that a new pile of extraneous paperwork had materialised out in the hallway, on the edge of the magic barrier. It was Malfoy’s turn to go pick them up, but she volunteered instead, taking the chance for a graceful exit from the conversation. When they had begun, she had thought she was getting solid answers to the mystery of Draco Malfoy, but now she realised she had given away ten times the amount of information in return. Malfoy hadn’t told her anything that she couldn’t have guessed or found in public record, but she had spewed out some of her deepest insecurities.

When she came back, Malfoy was sitting at his desk with a thoughtful look on his face. She worried that he was ruminating over their conversation, so she fished for a distraction. ‘So anything that becomes redundant or unnecessary up there just gets zapped down here? Sounds like complicated spellwork.’

Malfoy yawned. ‘Not really. I spent months untangling the spells before I realised they lifted the system straight out of _Morley’s Everyday Charms_. It was a spell every Ravenclaw from the 1940s used to clean up their scrap paper without destroying it, in case they became the next Nicholas Flamel. Their Head of House back then was a real neat freak. The Ministry just used it on multiple offices, with the same waste destination.’

Hermione tapped the sheet labelled ‘Shopping List’ with her pen. Not exactly a work of genius. It must have been zapped when the writer finished their shopping. ‘Half of this stuff is useless. Has anyone ever wanted any of it back?’

‘Nope. Not ever.’

‘Then why bother with the charade? Why not just burn the lot of it and call it a day?’ He made a show of being careless with the files sometimes, but he still filed 90% of it away in their giant filing cabinets.

Malfoy gave her a significant look. ‘What do you think I did before you came along? You’re a goody-two-shoes. You would never agree to that.’

It killed her that he was right. She had essentially been arguing with herself, trying to figure out why she kept going through the motions as though this were a real job. As though it mattered. She tried to bring herself to drop the paper on the floor, as Malfoy had earlier. But her hands just wouldn’t do it. She marked it down in her ledger, then filed it away under Personal Listicles. It was the biggest drawer they had. When the bell rang, she did it all over again.

The next day, Hermione waltzed back in after lunch with a message. ‘Pansy Parkinson wants to talk to you. She asked me to pass on her regards and her wish to catch up. She will eagerly await your owl.’

Malfoy said nothing, but he spent the next hour scribbling on paper and then discarding it. It was a good thing they had an almost endless supply of paper. After his tenth attempt, Hermione stood up from her desk and walked over to the sofa. Instead of sitting on it, she plopped down on to the floor, sitting cross-legged. ‘Sit like this,’ she demanded, patting the floor next to her. ‘You aren’t going to finish that letter on that rickety old desk. Have you ever done any actual work on it?’

Malfoy looked at her as though she were crazy, but she just stared back, a challenge in her eyes. He walked over to the sofa, and then gingerly sat down with his nose crinkled in disgust. ‘Am I supposed to burst into song now? Tap dance?’

Hermione smiled. ‘There were never enough chairs in the Gryffindor common- room, so we would sit like this. I thought it was a bit silly at first too, undignified. But if you just loosen up, you’ll feel more comfortable. I wrote some of my best essays in this position. I don’t know why, but it works.’

He placed the pad of paper on his knee, but for five minutes all he wrote was ‘Dear Pansy’.

Hermione shifted to make herself comfortable, dragging down two pillows from the couch and handing one to Malfoy. ‘During the end of the war, Harry and I were stuck with each other 24/7, in tight quarters. When it was all over, we decided to take a break from each other, for the sake of our sanity. But the break just kept going and going, for a whole month. It felt like the summer break from Hogwarts, but with no reunion at the train station to look forward to.’

Malfoy wasn’t looking in her direction, but she could tell he was listening from his complete and utter stillness.

‘One day, out of the blue, Harry sent me a charms book and a long letter. I already had two copies of the book, and most of the letter was a play-by-play analysis of a Quidditch game. I cried for hours over it. Now we rarely go two days without talking. I never expected him to be the one to reach out first. But even best friends can surprise you sometimes.’

Malfoy’s pen hand was shaking a little bit, but still no more ink was being added to the page.

‘Pansy saw me heading towards our secret staircase and deduced that I was working here with you. She ran across the lobby to approach me, and then she asked me very politely to pass on her message. Pansy hates me. To ask me for a favour like that, in public and with a straight face, she must really love you. She won’t care what you write, as long as you write it to her.’

‘And you just agreed to be her messenger girl out of the goodness of your heart?’

‘Yes.’ Whether he believed it or not, it was true. She wasn’t a big fan of Draco or Pansy, but she could get behind two long-lost friends making up. She was a sucker for a happy ending.

Malfoy gave her a feeble smirk. ‘Are you going to take your own advice Granger? Your little friends haven’t showed up to threaten me yet, so you haven’t told them about the new job. And you hate lying, so you probably haven’t spoken to them all week. Claiming you’re busy, ducking around corners when you see them coming, with all the subtlety of a lion.’

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t see the point in denying it. It was eerily accurate. She had seen Ron in the lobby this morning and actually hidden behind a pillar. ‘You write yours and I’ll write mine.’

She felt him take a deep breath and then he started to write slowly and methodically. It seemed that to put up with sappy conversations and vulnerability he needed to take her down a peg to even the score. She would let it be, just this once, because Pansy had looked pretty desperate to get her friend back. But next time she would strike back twice as hard.

She noticed that their knees were touching, the only physical contact she had ever had with Malfoy since that punch in third year. She could move away, but she didn’t want to spook him. It was an important letter. So she just sat there on the floor, leaning back against the sofa and trying to ignore Malfoy’s warmth while she composed a speech to Harry and Ron in her mind. The blush was from anger. She might not feel very angry right this second, but she was sure there was plenty of future anger in store when it came to Malfoy. When she had finished planning out three speeches for different locations and moods, Malfoy was still scribbling away on a fifth page. She tried to come up with some ideas for making the office less gloomy. A new lamp. Some posters. It was almost Christmas. Would Malfoy object to Christmas decorations? They could be green, after all.

When Malfoy sealed off his letter, he didn’t breathe a word of thanks to her. But he took the next three extraneous paper deliveries, and he dropped a Muggle chocolate bar on her desk on his way out. It was way past its expiry date, so it was probably from some weird stash he had kept better hidden than the soup, but it was the thought that counted.


	3. Yule Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk on eggnog, Hermione and Draco share a dance create a new spell.

Hermione dropped a present on Draco’s desk. ‘Merry Christmas.’

The present was wrapped in glittery red paper and had three bows attached. Malfoy looked at it like it was a bomb. Her decorating choices had been made to inspire exactly that reaction, a little Christmas present for herself. They had been working together for three weeks now and had silently agreed that outright meanness was off-limits. For one, they were working alone all day in a confined space. For two, they now had mutual blackmail material against one another. Teasing was still very much allowed.

‘What next? Are you going to invite me along to the Weasley Christmas shindig?’

‘Of course not,’ Hermione laughed. ‘I don’t want to spend my Christmas with you. And don’t try to pull any lost puppy routines to trick me into feeling guilty. Pansy told me that the two of you have big Christmas plans at some fancy restaurant.’

Hermione settled into the sofa with a pile of books. She wasn’t going to make even the pretence of work on Christmas Eve. So what if a few documents piled up in the hallway? None of them were exactly top-secret classified stuff. Malfoy had confessed to combing through the documents during his first week for anything juicy, but it seemed that anyone with volatile information was smart enough to burn it. If she couldn’t do any real work for her job, she would pursue her own hobbies. She had always wanted to devote some time to researching the Wolfsbane potion thoroughly. There hadn’t been any breakthroughs in the werewolf field for a long time, but Christmas was a time for miracles.

Malfoy threw one of the ribbons from the present at her to get her attention. ‘Since when did you and Pansy become gossip buddies?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘She warned me that if I tried to keep you prisoner, working through Christmas, she would come down to rescue you.’ Pansy had actually asked Hermione to spy on Draco for her, make sure he didn’t get too depressed. Having two parents in prison could really bring down a person’s Christmas cheer. Hermione hadn’t said yes, but she hadn’t said no either.

Draco unwrapped the present, then looked at it suspiciously. He tipped the bottle from side-to-side, letting the liquid slosh around. ‘What is it?’

‘Eggnog. Muggle Christmas tradition.’

He looked at her askance. ‘Egg?’

‘It’s alcoholic.’

He opened up the bottle and took a generous swig without any further questions. He screwed up his nose a little, but took a second mouthful. ‘Cheers.’

‘And your Christmas present to me is that you will let me do my research in peace. Or you’ll end the day with antlers.’ She gave him a stern look. The warning was absolutely necessary. Yesterday he had brought in some matches and proceeded to set fire to some of the extraneous notes he objected to most (press release drafts about himself), bringing out a can of soup to cook over the fire. By the time she had noticed what he was up to the bunker had already started to fill with smoke. She had used all of her water supply to douse the fire and they had been forced into the hallway for the rest of the afternoon, sitting on the floor and trading light insults. She had given him a furious lecture about fire hazards, lack of ventilation and workplace safety. He had ignored her and finished eating the soup he had rescued from the flames, complaining that she had watered it down with her ridiculous antics. Three weeks ago, the incident would have led to an all-out war. But now it was a mark of the odd camaraderie they had going that they had laughed it off by the end of the day. They got along surprisingly well when there was no one else around. In another life, they could have almost been friends. In this one she would settle for not-unfriendly colleagues.

Hermione was on her third book, _Casting by the_ _Phases of the Moon,_ when she heard Malfoy clear his throat. He was holding out his hand.

‘What?’ she said grumpily. ‘Do you want lunch money? I said not to disturb me. Your Christmas present, remember?’

He smiled at her. ‘I had another present in mind. How about a Christmas dance?’

She shook her head. ‘You should lay off the eggnog. You’re clearly delirious.’ She had only had one glass, and was ever so slightly tipsy. Malfoy had drunk the rest of the bottle on his own. She went back to her book, thinking that in his drunkenness he would get distracted soon enough by some other crazy idea.

Draco pulled the book out of her hands. ‘Now I have a hostage. One dance and you get your book back. It’s tradition. Between my mother and Pansy I’ve never gone a Christmas without being forced to dance against my will at wand point. Now it’s your turn. Pretend I have my wand pointed at you if it makes you feel better.’

She reached for the book, cursing his superior height. ‘You’re spending Christmas Eve with Pansy. Dance with her.’

‘Pansy sprained her ankle and she refuses to use any medical spells on it. She read that they can ruin the posture.’

Hermione sighed. Well, Draco wasn’t exactly her ideal dance partner, but she had to guess he had some talent for it, with all that Pureblood snobbery. She did kind of miss dancing. There hadn’t been very much of it after the war, especially since the dancing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding had been interrupted so spectacularly. When they were dating Ron had claimed post-traumatic stress to get out of dancing with her. She hadn’t pushed because Ron really was an awful dancer.

‘Fine. One dance. For the sake of Christmas tradition.’ She gave him her hand, and he pulled her up from the couch.

They started with a slow waltz. They touched lightly, with her hand on his shoulder and his on her waist, so lightly that she could barely feel it. Their clasped hands were gripping a bit tighter out of necessity, so they didn’t drift apart. They moved in circles through the tiny bunker, dodging the desks and sofa with ease. There was no real music, but they were both accomplished enough dancers to move in a gentle rhythm without it. She wasn’t sure who had set the rhythm, but they ended up perfectly in sync. After about a song’s worth of dancing, Draco started to speed up, until he was whirling her around the room at high speed. She stepped on his feet a few times, thrown off-balance, but they just kept dancing through it. He spun her so many times she felt dizzy, glad that she hadn’t consumed any more eggnog. They were twirling so fast that they overtook the imaginary rhythm, the melody and the whole song. It wasn’t like flying, because she hated flying. It was like casting a spell. A flash of inspiration struck her. ‘Stop,’ she said, halting the dance abruptly and pulling away.

She ran to her desk for some pen and paper. ‘I’ve just had an idea for a spell,’ she explained. She scribbled down her thoughts as she put it together in her mind. She had filled a page back-to-front before she remembered Draco. He was standing right where she’d left him, watching her in amusement.

‘Sorry,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Sometimes you just have to write something down while it’s still fresh. I’ve been experimenting with new spells lately, and this once just seemed to spring out, fully formed. Well, almost. I’ve got a few foundations from other spells that I can combine and the Arithmancy seems sound, but I’m not entirely sure about the wand movements…’

‘Let me see,’ he said, joining her at the desk. Hermione moved to the side to make room.

Draco perused her notes. ‘Impressive.’

She gave him a sideways glance. ‘You’re not mad? That was pretty rude of me.’

Draco took the pen out of her hand. ‘Never apologise for your talent Granger, let it ruffle a few feathers. That’s the fun part.’ He added a few lines to the bottom of the page, his handwriting much neater than hers. ‘I won’t apologise for mine. There. That should work. The problem is that it needs two different wand movements. Two casters.’

As she read over the notes, she resisted the urge to jump up and down. She was feeling pretty hyped up from the eggnog, the dancing and the thinking. ‘Thank you. It’s perfect. We should try this. Right now.’ She had tried out a few of her own spells, but nothing on this scale before.

Draco shrugged. ‘A Christmas prank. Why not?’

Hermione looked underneath the filing cabinet. ‘Wheels. Good. Push the other one out into the hallway.’ Hermione shoved her cabinet and it slid along jerkily. She was too excited to worry about its stability. She pushed it right out the door and along the hallway until she passed the anti-magic barrier. Sometimes the Ministry’s blind spots were amazing. No one could steal the files with magic from inside the bunker, but there was nothing to stop them from wandering in and grabbing a file by hand. There was very little security on the bunker, just a semi-hidden staircase from the lowest level of the Ministry and a Muggle lock that could be easily picked. She would have reported it, but if she had learnt anything from her time with Harry it was that lax security could always be useful for future adventures.

She waited for a few minutes before Draco appeared, pushing his own cabinet at a much more sedate pace. She tapped her foot impatiently. When the two cabinets were past the barrier she opened every drawer, then grabbed Draco’s arm to drag him into position. She stood directly opposite him and dragged out her wand. When their wands were aligned, she gave Draco a nod. They cast the spell with their words and movements perfectly in sync, glad of the practice from the dancing.

_‘Volant Originem Vox!’_

Hermione waved her wand in ever-growing circles, while Draco drew a line with his from the top to the bottom of each circle. It took ten circles for the spell to take form, and then a blue light erupted from each wand, colliding and then exploding into sparks. They both resisted the urge to duck from the harmless light show, wanting to see the effects of their hard work. They weren’t disappointed. Thousands of papers drifted out of the cabinet drawers, bobbing in the air for a few moments as they folded themselves into a simple bird-shape with wings and a beak, before speeding off towards the exit.

Hermione felt like shouting out ‘fly my pretties!’ Maybe with a nice dramatic cackle. But Draco would just be hopelessly confused. Perhaps she could act out the _Wizard of Oz_ for him later. She thought he would appreciate certain scenes. After a short pause to take it all in, Hermione and Draco ran down the corridor and up the stairs, dignity forgotten. They both squeezed through the doorway so they could see where the papers went. It was a satisfying sight. The papers that had bored them to death and sent them into existential despair were now finding their owners, attacking them gently with their makeshift beaks until they consented to read them. When every word was read, they turned back into normal inanimate paper. They ducked back into the stairwell as an alarm started blaring, announcing a lockdown of the building. They raced back to the bunker for safety, slamming the door shut behind them. Hermione scrambled through her bag for a high-grade lock mechanism she had purchased last week, and proceeded to install it on the door following the instructions she had copied down. Just because she hadn’t reported the failures in security didn’t mean she hadn’t taken steps to rectify them herself. Without magic, most Wizards would struggle to break through any sort of complicated Muggle lock.

When she was finished she leaned her back against the door, trying to catch her breath. ‘Think we should lie low for a little while?’

‘Sounds like a plan.’


	4. Lockdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco pass the time during a Ministry lockdown.

_Hour Eight (10pm):_

Hermione gently closed the door behind her and cleared her throat. ‘The alarm’s stopped.’

‘Finally!’ Draco shouted, ‘Incompetent idiots.’ He started pushing things off his desk and into his bag.

Hermione stepped forward. ‘I was kind of thinking I would stay here.’

The look on Draco’s face was almost comical. ‘Stay?’

‘It’s getting late. And I’ve seen you napping on the couch before, so it can’t be that uncomfortable. It would just be easier if I…’

Draco sighed and let go of the bag, which fell to the floor with a bang. ‘Alright. We’ll stay.’

‘We?’

Draco ignored her and pulled a bigger duffel bag out from under his desk. ‘Camping supplies. Let’s just say this isn’t the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter here.’

Hermione didn’t mention the fact that they never had enough work to occupy the normal working day, let alone the night. She knew Draco had his demons, and he knew she had hers. What sane person would want to stay in a musty old bunker with no windows or magic or electricity when they had a perfectly nice home to go to? ‘Then lead the way.’

* * *

  _Hour One (3pm):_

‘Want to play some cards Malfoy?’

‘What, like exploding snap? No magic.’

‘There are hundreds of Muggle card games. I’ll teach you.’

‘I guess I’ve got nothing better to do.’

* * *

  _Hour Two (4pm):_

Hermione flung the five of hearts into the air, scoring a direct hit on Malfoy’s nose. She had been aiming for his hair, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘You cheated!’

‘How did I cheat? There’s no magic.’

‘Muggles cheat all of the time! There’s no way you won four games in a row without cheating. And your nose twitched during that last round.’

‘It was itchy! The humidity in here is awful. Your hair clearly agrees with me.’

‘Grrr.’ Hermione stomped off to her desk, leaving the cards scattered all over the floor. Malfoy and his stupid twitchy nose could clean them up.

* * *

  _Hour Three (5pm)_

Hermione got back from her latest patrol of the corridor to find Draco snooping through her desk.

‘Hey!’ she shouted, reaching for the pile of papers he had discovered in her bottom drawer.

‘Is this supposed to be me, on a broom? My nose is not that pointy. Is that blood?’

He had uncovered the doodles she had drawn in her many bored hours. She had improved a little over time. Her human drawing skills were still terrible, so they were mostly just stick figures. But her landscapes weren’t wholly awful. Of course Draco seemed to be focusing more on his character’s bloody nose, rather than the fluffiness of her clouds. ‘He was hit by a bird. See that shape over by the right corner? And that could be anyone. You’re very self-centred.’

‘It has a title at the bottom. Draco vs. Pigeon.’

‘Oh.’

He flipped through the rest of the drawings. ‘These show some really violent tendencies. Should I be concerned for my safety?’

‘Always. I could easily take you.’

‘I agree. These are pretty unflattering. Look, the broom’s clearly swerving all over the place. My flying skills are excellent! And my hair is never this messy.’

She chose not to mention that she had drawn that one from life, after she had found him napping on the couch on her very first day in the office. ‘Would it make you feel any better if I showed you the ones I drew after my fight with Ron last week?’

‘Yes. Show me!’

‘Hmm. But these are very private, heartfelt drawings. What do you have to offer in return? Secret poetry? A nerdy coin collection?’ She hadn’t found anything when she had snooped in _his_ desk, but he was a Slytherin. He probably had all kinds of things hidden throughout the office.

‘Nevermind. I’ll find the drawings on my own. Then my vindictive pleasure will be well-earned.’

* * *

  _Hour Four (6pm):_

‘Granger. Granger. Granger.’

Hermione really wished she could cast a silencing charm. She had been stuck on the same page of her book for five minutes because Malfoy would not shut up.

‘That stupid voice is still screeching away out there.’

Hermione gave him a dirty look. ‘Maybe they should have hired you for the evacuation message. Five seconds with your voice and everyone would be running for the hills.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have compared your hair to a bird’s nest. Would you forgive me if I promise to get you a Christmas present? A real one? I just didn’t want you to get all sappy and bring out the tears and the hugging.’

‘No chance of that.’

Draco stuck his nose in the air. ‘I’ll have you know I’m an excellent gift giver. If I deigned to use my formidable talent on you there would be _hours_ of happy weeping. Hours.’

Hermione flipped to the next chapter of her book. Her head snapped up when she felt a sharp pain from her head. ‘Ow! Did you just pull my hair?’

Draco shrugged. ‘And if I did?’

Hermione slammed the book closed. The author was only re-treading old ground anyway. She reached under her desk discreetly and whipped out the spray bottle she had put aside for hot days. Before Draco knew what hit him, she had pulled the trigger three times and sprayed water in his face. He blinked as water dripped down his hair and face, looking like a drowned ferret. She only had a few moments to appreciate the sight before he used his seeker reflexes to grab for the bottle. She twisted away with it just in time and he grabbed her instead. She broke free by stepping on his foot and then he was limping after her, chasing her around the room. He was fast, but Quidditch wasn’t much of a tackling kind of sport, so he couldn’t keep a hold on her. In the middle of their fourth lap around the room, she just stopped and burst out laughing, taking in the ridiculousness of the situation. She was mucking around with Draco Malfoy like a child. It was harder to comprehend than the morning’s dancing. That had been fun, but restrained by the formal postures and steps. Two strangers at a ball could dance that way. For the last five minutes she had lost all sense of dignity, tripping around and shouting, not caring if Draco thought she looked like an idiot. It was a thousand times more intimate than merely dancing.

Draco apparently didn’t realise that the game was over. While she was lost in her thoughts he finally got in a successful tackle, knocking her to the floor where they collapsed in a tangle of limbs. She shifted out from underneath him before things could get awkward, then sat back on her knees. She considered him thoughtfully for a moment before leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek. She handed him the spray bottle. ‘Here. Choose your moment for revenge carefully. I have a few ore tricks up my sleeve.’

She stood up, dusted off her clothes and went back to her book. She had one more chapter to read. When her mind had cleared away that weirdly adorable look of confusion on his face, she would try to work out what she was going to do about Draco Malfoy.

* * *

  _Hour Five (7pm):_

She shook her head at Draco’s questioning look as she walked back into the office, indicating that the alarm was still on, loud as ever. She passed him the pile of papers she had found in the hallway. She had shuffled through all the scraps from bored Ministry employees waiting out the lockdown and left the interesting ones on top. ‘There are fewer than normal, so I think people must have developed a sudden fear of paper. There’s a draft memo from HR warning employees not to panic as the “pecking incident” is investigated promptly. Some pathetic scribbles from the Auror department, who apparently have no leads at all.’

Draco skimmed over the papers. ‘Nothing from Percy Weasley?’

‘No. We’ve never had anything come through from Percy, have we? Or the Minister, for that matter. Because they know better than to leave any extraneous papers around to get zapped. So why aren’t they knocking on our door yet? Percy’s no idiot. He can put two and two together.’

Draco shrugged. ‘Maybe he took the day off? ‘

It was a nice thought, but Hermione wasn’t convinced. That wasn’t like Percy at all. She wondered if he was showing mercy. Giving her a chance to run or to hide the evidence, for the sake of their broken friendship. She had no doubt that she could outwit the Ministry’s lockdown procedures. But she was staying right here until the lockdown was lifted, like a good little employee. She wasn’t scared.

‘You shouldn’t waste time on guilt Granger.’

It seemed he had misread her mood completely. ‘I’m not feeling guilty. I should be, but I just can’t conjure up the emotion. I could claim it was for a good cause. A protest against privacy invasion or inadequate security. Against Percy Weasley. Against bad handwriting. Those things are all true in their way. But mostly I just wanted to try out a challenging piece of spellwork. It was elegant, wasn’t it? I’ve never made anything that intricate before.’

’It was a beautiful spell. We should write a paper. Patent it. Sell it to the highest bidder.’

Hermione smiled. ‘That’s all well and good, but the spell feels over now. What I really want to do is feel that rush again. I want to make another one.’

‘Sure. But let’s wait until we’re not in a magically dead bunker, hiding out from the law, alright?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘We’re not hiding. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. But you’re right. Let’s take a break for the holidays. If we’re not in jail, let’s meet up at my apartment in the new year. Conjure up some real magic.’

‘If you’re up for it then so am I. Can’t let you have all the glory.’

* * *

_Hour Six (8pm):_

‘Do you have any more food hoarded away Malfoy? I’m starving.’

He threw her a pack of potato chips, which she missed catching by a mile. She picked them up off the floor and examined the packaging. ‘Muggle potato chips?’

Draco shrugged. ‘I do all of my shopping in the Muggle world. Wizarding folk aren’t exactly fond of me these days. If they see me they walk the other way.’

Hermione munched on some chips. ‘Not bad. I can’t remember the last time I had these. My parents were into healthy food, makes me feel guilty if I eat too much junk.’

‘What?’ she asked. ‘Stop staring. You’re the one that game me the chips. If you want some just ask.’

He wheeled his chair over to the other side of her desk and stole a few chips. ‘Isn’t this the part where you tell me that you don’t think I’m a repulsive leper? You know, as the champion of the pitiful and downtrodden.’

‘You’re neither pitiful nor downtrodden. You had an appropriate punishment for criminal activities and now you still have a fortune most people would envy. A week ago you were a bit zombie-like, but now you’re eating real human food and you have friends.’

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Friend, singular. Pansy’s the only person who will deign to even acknowledge my presence.’

Hermione threw a chip at his head. Boys could be so stubborn. ‘Friends, plural.’

He looked a little shocked at first, but then smug. She could see right through it. She knew enough about boys not to push for a talk about feelings and insecurities. Instead she just fought fiercely with him over the packet of chips, as though her life depended on it. She could take pity on his mental confusion and give him the last chip, but the really friend-like thing to do was to keep it for herself.

* * *

  _Hour Seven (9pm):_

‘I hate this place. I hate this place. I hate this place.’ Hermione muttered as she tried to think through the problem of how to pee in a bucket without suffering complete and total humiliation.

Soon Malfoy joined in, just for fun, and they were both screaming at the top of their lungs.

‘I HATE THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE.’

As far as mantras went, it wasn’t very inspiring, but it helped with her frustration. Draco never asked what set off her fit, but ten minutes later she worked out a plumbing plan that neither of them would ever speak about again.

* * *

  _Hour Eight (10pm):_

_‘_ I was kind of thinking I would stay here.’

* * *

  _Hour Ten (Midnight):_

Hermione rolled over carefully so she wouldn’t fall off the narrow couch. ‘Draco?’

She didn’t know why she was whispering. They were the only people in the room. Probably the only people left in the Ministry. ‘Draco? Are you still awake?’

‘No.’ The grumpy voice came from the floor on the other side of the room, where Malfoy was using a sleeping bag. She had surrendered one of the cushions from the back of the couch to make up for hogging it. It really wasn’t big enough for two people.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry for what?’ He was whispering too.

‘For dragging you into this mess. I still don’t care about the consequences, for me. But you’ve had this job for months. And you’re still on probation. You could get fired, or worse. I might have just ruined your life.’

‘You have.’

Her guilt grew ten times higher. Draco had been sitting in this office, a model citizen, until she had come along. Then she had been a bad influence and incited him into committing a crime. Who would have guessed?

She heard rustling as Draco shifted around in his sleeping bag. She couldn’t see anything at all in the dark, but she had the sense that he was facing her.

‘Thank you for blowing up my life Granger. It was a crappy one. The next one will probably be awful too, but at least I can say I had some fun in between.’

She shook her head even though he couldn’t see the gesture. ‘There has to be something out there better than this. I’ll help you find it. I promise.’

‘It’s adorable that you believe that.’

‘I’m not being naïve, just determined. I know my own powers and I know yours. I can do it. We can do it.’

‘Whatever. I’ll have even more fun proving you wrong.’

She gave up on convincing him. He would see. They all would. Maybe she was a little arrogant, but she knew she was capable of brilliant things when she put her mind to it. Her phenomenal N.E.W.T scores and years of successful adventuring were proof of that. There was a way for them both to come out of this smiling, and she would find it.

‘And Granger?’

‘Yes?’

‘Merry Christmas.’


	5. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco fight for their freedom.

Hermione woke up groggily, with no idea what time it was. They only had an analogue clock, which she couldn’t see in the dark. She didn’t remember her dreams. She hardly ever did. It was disappointing. Now that she had her creative side juiced up from the spell, she really wanted to know what her subconscious was capable of. What worlds did it dream up in her sleep? Did she have deep ambitions that her waking self wasn’t aware of? She turned to look at Draco, still curled up inside his sleeping bag on the floor. She wanted to see inside _his_ dreams. He had so many layers and in their time trapped in this hellish office she had only scratched the surface. Not for the first time, she wished she knew legilimency. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was sitting on the sleeping bag next to Draco, poking him on the shoulder. ‘Draco, wake up.’

He did not seem inclined to wake up. But she wasn’t deterred by his non-reaction. She kept poking until he rolled over, rubbing his shoulder and giving her an annoyed look.

‘What?’

‘I was thinking about strategy. For when the might of the Ministry falls down on us. We should present ourselves as a team, a couple.’

‘Or I could just point my finger at you and claim it was all your fault.’ He adjusted his pillow and closed his eyes. A few seconds later they were wide open again. ‘Wait, did you say couple?’

Hermione shifted closer. ‘It would help with our plans to set the magical research world alight. People would be so distracted by our unlikely romance that they would underestimate us as wizards and scholars.’

‘Am I still dreaming?’

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. For a heartbeat, it was simple and sweet, like breathing as one. Then, as he really woke up, he struggled to release his arms from the zipped-up sleeping bag to reach for her, ruining the moment. She sat back up and offered him a mischievous smile. ‘See, aren’t you distracted?’

‘Very.’ He pulled her in for another kiss and she went willingly.

If Hermione hadn’t already lost track of time, the kissing would have done it. The first five minutes were fierce, a battle of wills. There was some biting and scratching. Then Draco stroked his hand down her back in a single gentle motion and all of the tension drained from her body. The kisses turned soft and languid, with their heads both sharing Draco’s pillow. Draco tried to convince her to join him inside the sleeping bag, but she just refused with a smile. This morning or afternoon or night, whichever one it was, was only the beginning. She wanted to savour this feeling of discovery and awe. And she was awed by him, by them. By the way their movements could be so clumsy and so effective at the same time. By the way their feet seemed to play such a big part in the communication process while their lips were otherwise occupied. It made her want to write an essay about it, to tease out the reasons why this felt so right and then to argue with all her powers of logic that it should never stop. She thought that Draco would understand that urge. It was why they were going to make such a great team, personally and professionally. When she had dared him with that first brief kiss, she had thought they might explore some of the physical chemistry between them and that it might distract them from their conflicting personalities and the fraught question of what to do next. But her mind was an excellent multitasker and while her hands explored his body, her brain was making plans. She felt inspired. When they reluctantly parted, they lay down side-by-side, enjoying the peaceful quiet. It was Christmas morning. They were probably the only people in this gigantic building. The Ministry was theirs. If they had wanted to conquer it, now would be the time. It was a good thing that she had no use or desire for it at all. And of course, that she was too good a person to even contemplate such a thing.

‘So,’ Draco said, jolting her out of her thoughts, ‘should we request adjoining cells in Azkaban?’

‘Pfft,’ Hermione said. ‘We aren’t going to Azkaban. In fact, I bet I can get us out of this squeaky clean.’

‘And what are you willing to bet on that?’ His raised eyebrows suggested a few things.

‘If I can’t, then I’ll buy you a new supply of canned soup. It has to be better than whatever muck Azkaban is serving. Worst case scenario, I’ll make Harry use his boy-who-lived star power to overrule the usual menu.’

‘Deal. What’s your brilliant master plan?’

‘You’ll see. First, we need to make an appointment with Percy.’ She jumped up and scrambled around for some pen and paper.

‘Smart. That way the Aurors will know where to find us.’

‘Percy would never let me get dragged off by Aurors like that. His family would never forgive him. At worst he’ll try to convince me to turn myself in.’ She wished she felt as confident as she sounded. But at least half of her bravado was genuine, and that was plenty to see them through this. She had accomplished a lot more with less.

When she had finished her note, a formal meeting request that matched the template Percy used for his own office, she ran it by Draco.

‘10am tomorrow?’

‘The sooner the better, after Christmas. Percy will be at the Weasley’s Christmas dinner tonight, but I’ll avoid him entirely even if I have to borrow Harry’s invisibility cloak.’

‘Okay. But just in case, I will see if Pansy has any international portkeys handy. She does love to shop in Paris.’

She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘You do that. I’ll see you tomorrow. Merry Christmas.’

They parted ways and the office was empty for the first time in 24 hours.

* * *

 

Draco was already waiting when she waltzed into the office at 9am. She wondered how early he had arrived. They didn’t really need the hour to prepare for their meeting with Percy, but she had to make sure they were there first. She had asked George to do whatever he had to do to keep Percy at the Burrow until at least 9:15am. She now owed George a favour, which was a dangerous thing, but it was very necessary that she walked into this meeting looking like she had the upper hand. Even though she really didn’t.

‘Good morning,’ she said cheerily, ignoring Draco’s gloomy disposition. The kiss he greeted her with was a little too fierce for someone who had the confidence they would leave the room of their own free will. 

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I promise, we _will_ walk out of here victorious today.’

‘Right. And how will we do that?’

‘Wait and see.’

She positioned him in front of his desk and stood next to him, which left them both facing the door. She told him to lean back casually and relax his posture, as though they were just hanging out before class at Hogwarts. This close, she could feel the way he vibrated with anxiety, but from Percy’s perspective it would work.

Percy walked into the office at exactly 9:58am. He wore a slightly rumpled suit, which had an orange stain on the elbow that he apparently hadn’t noticed. Hermione mentally sent a thank you to George.

‘Ms. Granger. Mr. Malfoy.’

‘Percy,’ Hermione greeted with a smile. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. We have much to discuss.’

Percy frowned at her. ‘Hermione, I’m not sure you grasp the gravity of this meeting. It pains me that it’s come to this, but after your actions on Christmas Eve, there will be no avoiding disciplinary action. After we talk today I’ll have to send a recommendation to the Minister himself. It was only as a personal favour to me that he allowed me to handle this case instead of the Aurors. You know that I’ve always been fond of you, but my hands are tied by Ministry regulation. There’s only so much leniency I can show.’

Hermione just smiled brighter. ‘Oh, don’t worry Percy. A little creativity can do wonders.’

Percy gave her a pitying look and then took a seat at Hermione’s desk. He started taking out papers from the binder he was carrying, arranging them across the desk.

‘Well,’ Hermione said. ‘Let’s get started.’

Percy looked at her askance, as though she had stolen his line, which is exactly what she had done, piping in just as he had opened his mouth to speak. ‘Yes. Now, if I could read out Regulation 23…’

‘That won’t be necessary. That doesn’t apply in this situation, as this office doesn’t fall under the branch of Administration.’

‘Of course it does, it’s in my flow chart.’

Hermione shook her head at him. ‘You can’t believe everything that’s written down Percy. The Office of Extraneous Papers is actually categorised in the _official_ documents as an automated system. Because that’s what it was before Draco showed up. Seems you missed a few steps during his orientation. Or the Minister failed to record them properly. I can imagine why. Plausible deniability in case the ex-criminal hire was unpalatable to the public.’

‘But that can’t be right. The Minister isn’t like that. He’s one of the good guys. He would never…’

‘That’s neither here nor there. However it happened, as of this moment there is no official Ministry record of Draco’s presence or my presence in this office.’

Percy looked a little horrified at the implications of that. Draco looked proud and amused, unable to resist laughing. It seemed he finally believed she could pull this off. She wasn’t particularly proud. It had been ridiculously easy to tamper with the Ministry records, especially on a Christmas afternoon. They really needed to step up their security. She might even recommend that anonymously. Give herself more of a challenge for next time.

‘Hermione, that’s an even worse offence. Do you know what the minimum sentence is for records tampering? The Ministry takes it very seriously.’

‘There’s no need to get worked up Percy. I was merely stating a fact, not confessing to any crimes. I’m a little offended that you would jump to conclusions like that. I was a Hogwarts Prefect. That stands for a certain level of moral fortitude, don’t you agree?’

Percy was speechless, which was exactly what she wanted. He could really drone on if given half the chance. She supposed people would say that was something they had in common.

 ‘The gaps in the Ministry’s record-keeping are unfortunate, but let’s not dwell on that.’ Hermione linked arms with Draco. ‘We have some excellent news. Draco and I have decided to pursue a career in magical research together. We will be resigning from the Ministry effective immediately. I know you’ll support our ambitions. You’ve always been an admirer of the scholarly arts. You told me that in my first year at Hogwarts. Remember? We discussed it at length. I suppose I could even say I owe some of my inspiration to you.’

‘But…’

Draco decided to join in on the fun. The look he gave Percy was pure evil. ‘You know I really think this department should be discontinued in our absence. Those old spells malfunctioned pretty badly the other day. Must have gone stale. I’m sure that was quite embarrassing for the Ministry. The Daily Prophet certainly thought so. They wrote in so many quotes from Ministry employees concerned they were being spied on. Where is company loyalty these days?’

Percy sighed. ‘The Minister already demanded the office be wiped off the face of the planet. I suppose if you were to leave quietly we could let this go. But I really don’t like it. It goes against the new ethics I’ve been trying to instil here. We want a fairer and more transparent Ministry. Not more corruption.’

Hermione patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’ll get there someday. Just not today. Oh, and I didn’t get a chance to say Merry Christmas yesterday. We were both so busy.’

Draco’s cough indicated that he had picked up on the fact that she still hadn’t actually said it. Well, she really did not wish Percy any merriness at all. 

Percy picked up his binder. ‘I’ll put together another set of forms, for our resignations.’

‘Mail them to me. Draco and I are quite close these days. Another blessing we can thank you for. I never imagined you as the type to play cupid, but you did a good job.’

Percy looked aghast at the thought of being blamed for their new romance. ‘Well, I’m sure I wish you both well. I’ll take my leave. I have a few appointments on the book.’

Hermione waited until he was over the threshold before calling out. ‘Oh, and Percy?’

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t mistake this little chat for forgiveness. We may be erasing this office from existence, but you can’t erase the past. You betrayed me. I’ll play nice at the Burrow because I love your family, but we are not okay.’

Percy sighed. ‘I was only trying to do what was best for you. You were becoming too ambitious, the way I did when I was younger. Trying to move too fast up the ladder, no matter the cost. You needed a break.’

‘You saw what you wanted to see. I was good at my job. I earned every promotion and I did it without sacrificing any principles. I’m not you Percy. I know how to treat my friends. But you aren’t my friend anymore. You had better hope our paths don’t cross like this again, or I will take you down.’

Percy turned to Draco. ‘I did my best for you too. I gave you a job when no one else would.’

‘That’s true. But then you left me here to rot. The requests I sent for help were hard to write. I had to lower my dignity pretty far. You never answered a single one.’

Percy made a discreet gesture towards Hermione and Draco nodded in return. Hermione ignored their silent exchange. She may have thanked Percy facetiously earlier for bringing them together, but she couldn’t do it in earnest. She may have opened her heart to Draco now, but that was only after Percy had crushed it by destroying the career she had poured her soul into. Whatever fairy floss Percy might hope to spin now, she was certain his motives weren’t pure. Percy didn’t get to take credit for throwing them together in a hole in the ground.  

‘Goodbye. I’ll send the paperwork by owl.’ Percy left with a sluggish step, as though waiting for them to call him back, but they did not.

As his footsteps faded down the corridor, Hermione felt herself go weak at the knees. She would have fallen over if Draco hadn’t put an arm around her waist to hold her steady. ‘Thank god. I can’t believe that worked.’

Draco shook his head in awe. ‘That was incredible. I can’t believe you weren’t sorted into Slytherin.’

Hermione laughed shakily. ‘I guess we’re free now.’

‘And what do you want to do with this freedom?’

‘I want to get out of this hellhole. I’d set it on fire, but I’ not going to push my luck with the Ministry’s mercy.’

‘That wasn’t mercy Hermione. That was them falling at your feet.’

She tried to suppress a smile at the thought and failed. How had she ever thought she could be happy working in a bland Ministry office like a good little drone? Rebellion was just so much more fun.

Draco pulled her in closer. ‘Are you really leaving? What about the Department of Magical Creatures?’

Hermione leaned back into his arms. ‘That part of my life is over. Once the excitement of revamping the department had faded, I probably would have become bored. If the past few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that the hallowed Ministry of Magic is mostly just a bunch of meaningless paperwork. Luna’s almost through here as well. We spoke yesterday. We’ll come up with a team of people we can trust to run the department the way we want it run, and then we’ll idiot-proof it to stop any future bureaucratic interference.’

‘Were you serious, when you said you wanted to team up?’ There was a note of vulnerability in his voice.

‘Absolutely. We’ll need to search for some office space. Brainstorm project ideas. Get passes to all the good Wizarding libraries. Find investors. I’ll make a to-do list.’

‘And outside of work?’

‘We’ll be a team there too. The two of us are a volatile mix, so who knows what lies ahead. But my instincts say it will be fun.’ She kissed him to demonstrate just how much fun it would be.

Draco squeezed her shoulder. ‘So where to now?’

‘I need some fresh air. Let’s just go for a walk, see where the journey takes us.’

Draco stepped back and gave her a sceptical look. ‘See where the journey takes us? Who are you and what have you done to Hermione Granger?’

She held up her hands. ‘Okay, so there’s actually this office space I wanted to look at a few blocks from here. But we can get plenty of fresh air on the way. We can hold hands and whisper cute nonsense to each other.’

‘You’ve never spoken a word of nonsense in your entire life. But hand holding I can do. It’s surprisingly nice. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.’

‘They would never believe me. We’ll just tell people I threatened you at wand point until you agreed to hold my hand. That’s a far more believable story.’

They shut the door behind them as they left and Office 623 was empty once more.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three Years Later

_Three Years Later_

Office 623 was an empty concrete box. There were no signs of life, except for the plain envelope in the middle of the floor and a canvas sack in the back left corner. The envelope wasn’t flashy and it wasn’t trying to hide. It was just waiting for the right person to come along.

 

_Dear reader,_

_If you’re reading this letter, you passed through the ward in the corridor. It doesn’t prove that you’re special. That you’re a good person or a clever person. It only shows that you needed a safe space. You might have come here to hide. Sometimes we all need to hide. But I hope that when you’re hiding is done, you find a better use for this box. That you can grow enough to think outside of it, and to take your own path back to the outside world. For a while this room was my purgatory. But I outgrew it, and one day you will too. You may have noticed that this room is devoid of magic. It can be annoying and inconvenient and boring. It will let you think before you cast. Because you can do amazing things with magic. If you care enough to try. There are books in the bag; books of fiction, philosophy, science and magic. Books are always a good place to start. There is also a can of mushroom soup. Enjoy this purgatory or hate it. When it’s over, if you think it helped you in any way, pass it on to the next person. I don’t own this room. I have no conceivable right to it. But I’m giving it to you anyway. Have fun with it. Or don’t. Just use it to live the way you need to live until you can face the world again. It will always be waiting._

* * *

 

There was a secret message hidden in the books. If someone were to crack the code and take the book outside into the light and magic, they would find a second message, one that would be more surprising than any of the other crazy things they had seen when they had stumbled down the secret stairwell they had found in the Ministry of Magic.

 

_That was premium soup. I hope you didn’t waste it._

_Yours sincerely,  
_ _Draco Malfoy._


End file.
